


Lockdown, Part 2

by skivvysupreme



Series: The Cuffed Verse [8]
Category: Glee
Genre: Cheerio Blaine, M/M, Past Violence, Skank Kurt Hummel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4095847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivvysupreme/pseuds/skivvysupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up where part 1 left off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lockdown, Part 2

Blaine is in Kurt’s house, and Kurt doesn’t know what to do about it.

Kurt thinks he _should_ know what to do about it, but he’s never had a boyfriend before. Can he just take Blaine up to his room? Does he need to take Blaine’s bag, or ask him to take his shoes off? Do they have to make small talk with his dad first? Does he have to give Blaine the grand tour? This is his home, he has full control in this situation—an increasingly rare circumstance when it comes to Blaine, it seems—but he isn’t sure what that entails or how to use it.

Blaine tilts his head and looks Kurt up and down, his mouth pursing in amusement as he eyes Kurt’s bare ankles. “Are those my sweatpants? They’re a little too short for you, I think.”

Kurt arches an eyebrow as he leans back against the closed front door. “I make it work. It’s ‘Victorian flirt’ chic. Got a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” Blaine says, and it’s not the bright, cheery tone he kept on the porch, but low and dark, stirring something heavy and hot in Kurt’s stomach as Blaine takes a step closer and rests a hand on Kurt’s hip. “I really like how you look in my clothes, Kurt."

Kurt reaches for him, deftly slipping a warm hand down the front of Blaine’s Cheerio shirt until he can slip his fingertips under the hem and into Blaine’s waistband. Blaine is warm and _what the hell is that cologne_ and he’s so close that he’s all Kurt can see, molten amber in his eyes and shooting stars in his smile like every part of him is made to set Kurt on fire.

Blaine’s stomach jumps under Kurt’s hand as he gasps in surprise. “Kurt, your dad’s in the next room, we can’t actually—I was teasing, I was just—“

Kurt pulls Blaine forward by his waistband until their bodies are against each other, then hovers an inch away from his mouth. He can feel Blaine’s breath on his lips and he knows Blaine can feel the same. “Starting what you can’t finish? Not with me, you don’t.”

And Kurt walks away, leaving Blaine flushed in the entryway as he calls out, “Hey, Dad, ready to order?”

*****

It takes forty minutes for the food to arrive. They are the longest forty minutes in Blaine’s recent memory.

Kurt shows him his room—modern and monochromatic with splashes of the stylish macabre—and barely cracks the door open behind them as he lets Blaine look around. Kurt keeps pacing idly, coming so close to Blaine that he can feel Kurt’s body heat as he passes. Kurt leans in and drops a kiss to the back of Blaine’s neck, then saunters away as soon as Blaine turns around. He grazes a finger up Blaine’s lower back as he examines the photos on Kurt’s bookshelf. He makes it so that Blaine can’t really focus on any one thing in the room, his presence both keeping Blaine on edge and cocooning him so that everything he sees, hears, smells, feels, touches—is Kurt.

Blaine tries to read the labels on the jars and bottles arranged neatly on Kurt’s vanity table, but this is difficult, because half the labels are in French and because Kurt keeps nuzzling at him from behind. The cool metal of Kurt’s nose ring slides up the rim of his ear, and Kurt’s teeth follow, nibbling gently at his earlobe as he rests his hands on Blaine’s waist. Blaine doesn’t know what to make of their shared reflection; he is all clean lines and bright cheerleader, while Kurt resembles a lit match. The pink in Kurt’s soft, upswept hair is a shock against Blaine’s flat, shiny black, and Kurt’s black and gray clothing is a muted complement to Blaine’s bold red and white.

Actually, for _all_ the reasons they could clash, they complement.

Blaine looks at the bruise on Kurt’s left cheek, on the same side as his piercing, and at the purpled knuckles gripping Blaine’s hips. He does not understand this boy. He doesn’t understand how Kurt can be so relaxed about it, how he can just keep going about his day as if nothing happened, as if Tina’s text about the ambush hadn’t scared the shit out of Blaine and catapulted him out of his English class to go find him.

And when he found him, Kurt hadn’t been a wounded mess, but a laid-back, battle-weary veteran of McKinley High School and all it had to offer, smiling up at Blaine like this was just another Monday and Kurt was just happy to see him.

Kurt walks into darkness like he’s never known light, like he’s heard _the only thing to fear is fear itself_ and actually believes it. Like weakness is something for other people, something he can’t be bothered with. Like he doesn’t care. He has shrugged off the awful morning and moved on. And now, he is slowly, purposefully picking Blaine’s careful composure apart, utterly in control and kissing down Blaine’s neck with an attitude so calm and casual that he might as well be filing his nails.

Blaine watches Kurt’s eyes meet his own in the mirror, blinking innocently even as he smiles like sin incarnate around a little bite to Blaine’s jaw, and Blaine realizes that he has never met anyone stronger, or scarier. And just like that, Blaine needs him. After all, the safest place in a tornado is always the eye of the storm.

He leans back against Kurt, turning his head to try and kiss him because he needs to feel Kurt’s lips again as soon as possible, and once again, Kurt backs away.

“Kurt, please,” Blaine whines, “What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Kurt shrugs, his voice high and sweet. “Weren’t you the one saying we couldn’t?”

And as if the universe knows Blaine needs a reminder of why he said such a silly thing in the first place, the doorbell rings and Kurt’s dad yells from downstairs, “Boys! Food’s here!”

*****

“So, Blaine, tell me about yourself.” Mr. Hummel spoons some more rice onto his plate next to his peppered steak and looks over at him. There’s not a particularly intimidating expression on his face, but there is something about these Hummel men’s eyes that makes Blaine feel like they can see right through him.

Plus, Blaine has never known how to answer that question. “Well, um. I’m on the cheerleading squad—um, I guess that’s obvious,” he laughs nervously, glancing down at his uniform and spinning his fork in his chow mein.

“He’s the captain, Dad,” Kurt adds, his fork lingering in his mouth as he watches Blaine across the table. Then he moans around a mouthful of General Tso’s chicken, licking an errant drop of the sweet, tangy sauce from the corner of his mouth, and sighs, “Mmm, that is always _so_ good.”

Blaine is thankful there’s a dining table covering his lap.

“Captain, huh? So I take it you’re really good? Kurt said you’re a transfer.”

“I like to think so. Um. Yes, I went to Dal—”

Mr. Hummel raises an eyebrow at Blaine’s sudden stop, waiting for him to continue.

“Are you okay, Blaine?” Kurt asks, eyes wide and angelic like he hasn’t stretched one long leg over to Blaine’s and isn’t massaging the inside of Blaine’s thigh with his socked foot under the table.

 _Deep breath, Blaine_. _In, out._ “I went to Dalton Academy in Westerville,” Blaine continues, his voice a little lower and a little slower as he concentrates on not making any odd noises. “I just… I thought it was time to make a change. And I like being on a team, so I joined the Cheerios. I joined the glee club, too, because I was… sort of the captain back at Dalton, and I love music more than anything.”

Mr. Hummel nods, looking back at Kurt. Kurt’s still rubbing Blaine’s leg, but he’s perfectly poised, if slouched a little low in his seat, happily eating his food and making no indication of what’s going on underneath the table.

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common. You know, Kurt was a cheerleader.”

“He mentioned that.”

“Did he tell you he was in the glee club, too?”

“Dad!” Kurt hisses, dropping his fork onto his plate and momentarily pausing his foot.

Blaine’s grin stretches from ear to ear, possible duets filling his mind in a flurry of melodies as he pictures them performing together. And Kurt's speaking voice is so beautiful, Blaine can't even imagine what music would sound like. “Kurt, you can sing? Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you quit glee?”

“For personal reasons,” Kurt replies, and his foot suddenly inches to the right, rubbing firm but fleeting across Blaine’s cock.

Blaine takes a sudden, loud intake of breath and quickly transforms it into a cough. Oh, god, he can’t get hard right now, not at the table, not with Kurt’s dad talking to him—but Kurt has held him on the edge all afternoon and now he’s really touching him—

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah, yeah, just—noodles went down the wrong way, I think.”

Kurt gets up from the table and grabs Blaine’s glass. “Let me get you some more water.”

Blaine glares at Kurt’s back as he heads into the kitchen, which was sort of a mistake because Kurt’s ass happens to look amazing in Blaine’s sweatpants, then looks back at Mr. Hummel, willing his boner to go down.

Turns out, that isn’t so difficult, because the look on Mr. Hummel’s face is grave and he’s got his hands clasped together on top of the table. “So. These guys who ganged up on Kurt today. Kurt said they attacked you, too.”

“Um. Yeah… yes, they did.” Blaine looks away and murmurs, “Not in an actual fight, they just threw their slushies on me.”

“That’s still really crappy,” he replies, shaking his head. “I got the feeling it was pretty bad.”

“Kurt helped me so much, though. He took care of me. I was safe with him.”

Blaine isn’t sure what he said to earn it, but Mr. Hummel’s suddenly beaming at him. “That’s what I like to hear,” he says, putting a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “Good to know you both have someone looking out for you.”

He sees Kurt watching them from the doorway, the kitchen light behind him catching his hair and throwing a pink glow around his head. Blaine’s breath catches in his throat as Kurt smiles at him from behind his glass of water. He turns back to Kurt’s dad and, because he needs to, because he can’t be afraid when Kurt smiles at him like that, says, “Mr. Hummel, your son is amazing. He’s the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

_And I think I might be in love with him._

“Would it be okay if I brought Kurt’s homework for the rest of the week? I know I just showed up today, but I don’t want to presume.”

Mr. Hummel leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, still grinning at Blaine. “I like you, kid. You’re welcome here whenever you want. But, any study sessions, you keep the door open, got it? Open, not cracked.”

“Oh! Yes, Mr. Hummel, of course we will.”

“Well, I’m telling _you_ that, Blaine, ‘cause you might actually listen, and not start playing footsies under the table.”

Blaine chokes on his noodles for real this time as Kurt turns bright red and disappears into the kitchen.

*****

They’re standing on the front porch, staring at each other because neither wants to say goodnight. Blaine is half-hard again from the flirty touches and looks Kurt kept giving him as they washed and dried the dishes together. “You are terrible, Kurt Hummel, did you know that?” Blaine asks, taking Kurt’s hand.

Kurt rubs his thumb along the inside of Blaine’s wrist. “Terrible? Me? I thought I was—what was it you said? _Amazing_?”

“You are. But you’re also terrible, and so gorgeous and hot that I’m kind of having a hard time dealing with it, so can I kiss you now?”

Kurt sighs in a big, theatrical sort of way and takes a step forward, smirking as he puts his hands on Blaine’s hips again. Blaine’s eyes go big and dark under the porch light. He reaches for Kurt, gently cupping his cheeks in both hands and carefully avoiding the bruise on the left one. Kurt’s tongue darts out to wet his plump bottom lip, and he closes his eyes and sort of nuzzles into Blaine’s hands, whispering, “Waited all night for this. Come here.”

When they finally kiss, Kurt lets his body sag against Blaine’s, sighing in relief. Blaine’s kissing hard and deep from the start, and they stagger a little until Kurt’s back bangs against the front door.

“Goodnight, Blaine!” Kurt’s dad calls from inside the house.

“Goodnight, Mr. Hummel!” Blaine calls back, more out of polite instinct than anything else, and Kurt laughs against his cheek. They kiss again, much softer this time, and as Blaine finally pulls away, he says, “We’re going to get in so much trouble together, aren’t we?”

Kurt tilts his head back against the door and gives Blaine’s hips one last squeeze before he lets go. “I’m counting on it."


End file.
